


Transformation

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), F/M, Inflation, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Vriska finds a mysterious package on her doorstep and quickly discovers its... interesting properties.
Relationships: Vriska Serket/Equius Zahhak
Kudos: 17





	Transformation

It starts with a package, unmarked, on your doorstep. You notice it after an intense FLARP session - you’re walking back into your hive when you almost trip over the small box, and at the time, you’re too tired to really be suspicious.  _ Probably from Zahhak _ , you think, because really, he’s the only one close enough to bother with something like this. And sure, maybe that’s cause to approach the box’s contents with caution, but you’ve never been one to bother with anything like that.

You lift it up without a second thought and carry it up to your block, surprised by how light it is, especially in comparison to the heavy sack of treasure you have slung over your back. Once you reach your block, you drop the treasure into your ever-growing pile and slump down into your desk chair. You use one of your sharp nails to cut the tape holding the box shut and open it with a tired kind of curiosity. Gog, you’re exhausted. But you don’t want to fall asleep without figuring what this is.

Inside of the box is a small bracelet. It’s made of eight shining blue gemstones, clearly valuable, and it brings a sly smile to your face. If this is really from Zahhak, he probably hadn’t realized how much his little “gift” is worth. 

You pick the bracelet up with one finger and let it catch and reflect the moonlight. It’s really pretty actually, and while you don’t usually put much stock in things like “prettiness” beyond the shimmer of valuable metals and gems, something about the beauty of the bracelet draws you in. Huh. Interesting.

With the bracelet still dangling from one finger, you look into the box once more to see if there’s any sort of message or note, but there’s nothing that you can see.

“Weird,” you murmur to yourself. But, then again, hey, is it really surprising to think that you might have a secret admirer? You’re Marquise Spinneret Mindfang for crying out loud, it wouldn’t be shocking to find out that someone is trying to woo you or, at the very least, bribe you for their life. 

You smirk to yourself as you slide the bracelet all of the way onto your wrist. (It fits perfectly.) Whoever left this must have been pretty stupid to not leave any sort of note or contact information, especially if they’re trying to send you some sort of message. What an idiot.

You drop the empty box to the ground and stretch your arms out with a long yawn, already enjoying the weight of the bracelet against your wrist, but then - but then you bring your arms back down to your sides, and something feels… weird. Your fingers feel slow, almost, like they’re trying to move through cold sopor slime, and almost like they’re… touching? 

Carefully, you lift your left arm, the one with the bracelet, up to your face so that you can see your hand. And what you see is… well. You see your fingers, they’re definitely yours, they move when you tell them to and all that, but they look strange. They’ve taken on a shiny sort of sheen, and they seem to be getting bigger and rounder and wait, what the fuck, why are your fingers merging together?

Your jaw drops as you bring your other hand up to your face and find that, yes, both of your hands are turning into some sort of shiny, clawless, useless mittens. 

“What the fuck?” you gasp, and then again, “What the  _ fuck _ ?” because whatever is happening is spreading to your arms. That shine, the one you now recognize as the look of light glinting off of your rubber, waterproof FLARP dice, is now almost up to your shoulder, and as it travels, so does that slow feeling. You try to move your arm but discover that you can’t. In fact, both of your arms fall to your side, limp and seemingly unable to work.  _ What the fuck is happening _ ?

Before you can try and think of a plan, though, you feel the strange feeling spreading out further, faster now, from your shoulders all the way down to your toes. Inch by inch, you lose control of your body and can do nothing but stare in horror as your skin turns to useless rubber. As you lose control of your back and legs, you start to slide down, down, down from your chair, and you really start to panic when you realize you’re about to hit the floor.

“Wait, wait, wait, stop!” you cry, but there’s no response, of course, and you land on your back on the floor with a strange sort of squeak. You feel your toes all fuse together like your fingers did, forming useless nubs at the ends of your legs instead of feet, and then everything gets, impossibly, worse.

This time, the feeling starts in your newly modified feet. It feels like - well, there’s no way to describe it, really, other than the feeling of being  _ filled.  _ As you watch in horror, your feet, then your legs begin to swell, not hugely, but just enough to make your formerly sharp proportions round and almost cartoonish in nature. Your pants tighten and then, oh fuck, begin to tear along the seams.

You try to wiggle your body, find some way to stop whatever it is that’s happening, but the only thing you can move is your still-unaffected head, and that does nothing to slow the weird  _ filling  _ feeling as it creeps up your thighs and into your ass. And when it reaches your ass, it  _ increases.  _

Your pants finally give out and rip into useless pieces that fall to the floor as the weird feeling inflates your ass, bigger and bigger, until it’s almost lifting your head off of the ground by its sheer size alone, and then you’re treated to a first-class view of your bulge sheath closing over.

“What the fuck?!” you repeat, wriggling your head more intensely, but again, whatever hell-force is causing this doesn’t listen. There’s a strange and almost indescribable feeling in your nook, one that you can only describe as  _ lengthening _ , almost as if all of your internal organs are disappearing and allowing your nook to get deeper and deeper, and then the filling feeling keeps moving. 

It puffs out your stomach and arms a bit as it passes, again reducing your sharp edges to cartoonish bubbles, and then it hits your breasts and everything really and truly goes to hell.

Your shirt only lasts a moment before your rapidly expanding breasts send it tearing away from you, and then your tits keep growing and growing until they almost obscure your line of sight. And it’s horrible, it’s terrible, you don’t know what’s happening, but … it’s starting to feel almost  _ good.  _

You battle the urge to groan in something other than horror as the feeling finally starts to reach up your neck and to your face. Control slips away from you gradually as your entire face is turned into the rubber-like material. You feel your horns softening around the edges and your nose falling flat against your face, and you manage one last, desperate, “ _ Wait-”  _ before your mouth is taken from you. 

Whatever’s doing this doesn’t close your mouth, though, it keeps it wide open in a perfect ‘O’ and even plumps your lips up a bit for good measure. And then the feeling stops. 

You lie completely still for a long moment - not that you have any other choice, there is absolutely no part of yourself that you can move - and you’re about to resign yourself to an extremely embarrassing culling when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs of your hive. 

You would freeze if you could. Who the fuck is here? No one comes to your hive unannounced, the footsteps are too light to be a drone and besides, those rarely bother with things like stairs anyway, and then the entrance plank to your block swings open to realize, because the universe hates you, apparently, Equius Zahhak.

He’s sweaty and disgusting as ever, especially when he sees you lying, helpless and naked, on the floor. 

“You got my present,” he says, with a laughter in his tone you’ve never heard before. “Good. I am glad to see a lowblood learning her place.”

You attempt to glare at him. You fail.

He steps closer, dropping to a knee in front of you and tilting your chin up with a disgusting, sweaty finger. “I hope you will not find my behavior inappropriate. Although, I do not think objects have a sense of propriety.”

He’s sweating so much that a drop of it falls from his hairline to your chest, but despite the way every single one of your instincts screams for you to flinch away, there is nothing you can do.

And there is nothing you can do as Equius sits back slightly, balancing himself on his feet so that he can hastily shove his shorts and compression tights to reveal his bulge. And - well, fuck. You know, of course, that bulges tend to increase exponentially with caste size, but his is just so much larger than anything you’ve ever seen before.

He runs a hand over his bulge, biting his lip as he does, before grabbing you roughly by the waist and pulling you in front of him. He flicks one of your legs out of the way easily so that he’s neatly situated between your legs, with your nook completely bare and open to him. 

“Just like a good lowblood should,” he breathes, almost like he’s hearing your thoughts, and then he tightens his grip on your waist, pulls you forward, and sinks into you with what can only be described as a shout.

Of course, whatever “magic” caused this apparently decided that it didn’t want you to be able to move any of your limbs, but that it wanted you to feel  _ everything  _ perfectly. If you could scream, you would be howling like a stupid cullbait wiggler right now, as Equius bottoms out, impossibly deep and impossibly wide.

His hands leave your hips, dropping you back onto the floor for just a moment before his slick hands grab onto your breasts. He uses them like handles as he pulls you back and forth on his bulge, like you’re just some fucking sex toy, groaning disgustingly and sweating the entire time.

You want to scream, want to move, want to writhe and holler and kick, but all you can do is flop uselessly in time with Equius’ movements. You are nothing but an object, a  _ toy _ for him. 

His hands tighten, borderline painfully, on your tits, and you suddenly feel like you’re being split open as his bulge swells, just a bit, as he begins to come.  He comes inside of you like you’re nothing but a filial fucking pail, and he keeps coming until his blue slurry is practically gushing from your nook.

Finally, Equius pulls out. He’s breathing heavily, still sweating, obviously, and the smile on his face is nothing short of terrifying when he strokes your cheek and says, “We will do this again, lowblood.”


End file.
